


New Friends

by dalishtrash



Series: Fragments of a Dreamer's Tale [2]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Pre-Dragon Age: Inquisition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-11
Updated: 2019-01-11
Packaged: 2019-10-08 06:59:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17381855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dalishtrash/pseuds/dalishtrash
Summary: Nemarhis was taken in by Clan Lavellan. Her early days there were a difficult adjustment, but not everyone was put off by her arrival.Elven translations are in the notes at the bottom of the piece.





	New Friends

“Keeper… _ar gen’av’ahna ma_ … please see reason! She’s been here for days and refuses a word, yet come nightfall, hollers so violently the halla fret. The girl is touched...”

A few of the gathered clanmate murmured their agreement.

“What if the shemlen get close to camp? You can hear her screaming a mile away in the dead of night. Her presence endangers us all!”

"We already have too many gifted in magic. The Templars will only forgive so much, Keeper..."

Keeper Deshanna stood silently, his weathered fingers laced patiently as he allowed the concerned of clan Lavellan to air their grievances.

“Your fears are not unwarranted. But she is a just child--one of our own, no less--and it will do us no credit to see her left to fend for herself. I would see her cared for as all children should be cared for… ” the old Dalish raised his gaze to rest on the auburn-haired man who spoke first. “Yavren, when your mother came to us from the Kirkwall alienage, pleading for protection and to teach you the ways of the People… we did not turn you away as other clans had. Why should this girl be any different?”

Yavren’s broad nose wrinkled beneath the dark green ink of Mythal’s markings in frustration, but he had no retort. As the Keeper softly addressed the concerns of the few gathered, a small figure curiously crept his way from one aravel to another. Mithren was lanky youngling, witness to barely thirteen summers, wrapped in a light woolen blanket as he approached the Keeper’s aravel. He could see his parents among those gathered. They had been intent to quell his curiosity at the newcomer and busied him with chores, but he had heard her cries in the night. Everyone did. Tiny, painful cries of terror.

He could hear her now, through the heavy canvas that shield the caravan’s mouth from the wind. Hitched breath and muffled sobbing. It reminded him of when Ghilena, his sister, would have awful night terrors and he would sit with the mother by lantern light as she sang the ‘ _mir da’len somniar’_ to soothe her back to sleep. With a nervous glance towards the firelight, where the Keeper still spoke, Mithran took a deep breath and slipped inside the cabin.

“... hello?”

The sobbing ceased. He heard a brief scramble in the dark before silence resumed.

“Hi. Don’t be scared. I... brought you a light,” he tried again, carefully unshielding a small oil lamp from beneath his blanket-cloak. “My name’s Mithren.”

The girl was crouched on top of her bedroll, hand clamped over her mouth to force her own silence. Ready to flee, should the need arise. Her wide, amber eyes rapidly roamed over him, the lamp and the exit. She reminded him of a trapped dear, staring down the shaft of his father’s arrow. Carefully, the boy set down the lantern and shrugged off his blanket, showing his empty hands.

“What’s your name?”

The girl sat silent, still poised to flee.

“My sister used to have bad dreams,” he tried again, slowly pulling something from a pocket as he crouched on the other side of the lamp. He gently placed down a small sylvanwood carving beside the lamp. “Maybe this will protect you.”

Her eyes fell to the statuette. It was roughly hewn, but simple enough to recognize the shape of a wolf howling. Her brows knitted heavily with confusion and Mithren quickly clarified.

“Do you know the of the Emerald Knights?” he asked, though pausing was expectedly met with more silence. “They were great warriors who fought beside wolves to defend our land from the shemlen. The great protectors of Halamshiral.”

Mithren’s eyes lit up. “Elder Harwen told us stories of them. Their wolves would fight with them, eat with them, and when they slept, guard them.”

She looked back to the carving, her gaze more curious before crawling forward to retrieve it and return to her bedroll. A smile broke across Mirthren’s face and he ruffled the back of his sandy-brown hair. “Well… it’s not a real wolf… but… you can keep it, if you want.”

The worry in the girl’s face seemed to lessen as she turned the wolf around between her hands. He fumbled for the words of Elder Harwen’s story, “Cry for the past—only there does glory dwell.  For here, the bow was strung, the sword bequeathed, the vows sworn…”

“And so glory was born within the hearts of elves…”

Mirthren jumped at the deep voice of Keeper Deshanna behind him.

“A sweet sentiment, da’len,” he continued, his stern gaze causing him to shift subconsciously. “But it is late, and you should not be here.”

“... sorry, Keeper,” the young elf scrambled for his blanket and lantern. “I just wanted to help.”

Lines crinkled in the corners of the Keeper's eyes and he gave the boy a knowing nod. “Off to bed, before your mother worries.”

Mithren reluctantly headed towards the exit, ears hot with embarrassment.

“... Thank you.”

A small voice halted him in his tracks. Mithren looked up at the surprised that softened the Keepers lined face before turning back to the girl.

She clutched the guardian wolf in her hands tightly.

"My name is Nemarhis."

**Author's Note:**

> Elven Translations:
> 
> Ar gen’av’ahna ma - I beg you  
> Da'len - Little one (child)


End file.
